


What You Make of It

by orphan_account



Category: The Willoughbys (2020)
Genre: Child Neglect, Disordered Eating, Found Family, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Malnutrition, Oneshot, Past Child Abuse, Some fluff too, getting used to a loving home and family, touch starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24353173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As the eldest and longest unloved of the Willoughby children, adjusting to a real family does not come so easily for Tim.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 186





	What You Make of It

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This came out a day or two later than I had been wanting, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. This is obviously my first fic for this movie, but hopefully it won't be my last!

  
  
Thanks to the sheer amount of ground there was to cover, it took them a while to get back to the factory. In fact, after finally arriving within the city limits, they had to find a terminal and take a bus the rest of the way there. No one minded too much, though- now that they knew they were all going home together, the method for getting there didn’t seem to matter.

Still, as Tim boarded behind the rest of his family, he wondered absently if there would be many more bus trips in their future. He hoped so, oddly enough.

They wound up settling near the back of the vehicle, where there were an abundance of empty seats. Jane sat next to him, the Barnabys settled on the other side of the aisle, and Nanny and Melanoff were behind them, with Ruth between them. Luckily, the bus was empty enough that they were all near enough to each other so as to be comfortable.

They might have been a strange sight, all sitting together as a group, but it didn’t matter to them in the least. They were their own little family now, united by past difficulty, hope and more. It had taken them this long to find each other, and now that they had, they would stay together at all cost. 

Perhaps this knowledge was partially why he leaned up against Jane the whole way there. 

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to mind too much, only stealing occasional glances at him to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep on her. Indeed, the feeling of exhaustion _was_ beginning to settle in, but he wasn’t willing to let it overtake him just yet- the sensation of touch was comforting, yes, but also exciting and strange all at once. He wanted to experience it for a little longer.

(He remembered it had been that way on the mountaintop, too. As the snow had piled up around them, and he and his siblings had awaited their deaths, what had caught his attention then was how strangely warm and alive the embrace felt.)

It might have been a silly thing to think, but at that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. The feeling of being touched- hugged- _held_ \- was enough to dispel any nagging thoughts about how childish those wants (needs?) were, at least for now.

For the time being, then, he allowed himself to sit quietly and listen to Nanny and Melanoff sorting out plans for beds and seating arrangements, feeling the constant physical presence of his sister beside him. 

. . . .

“Alright kids, dinner time!” Nanny called from the other room, prompting the children to get up from where they sat in front of the magical moving picture box and approach the table. 

Tim brought up the rear of the small party, fighting off a slight feeling of trepidation as he walked behind them.

This was their first meal together as a family, and the first real food he’d had in a while. 

Of course, he’d had a couple small things here and there in the past few days- many for the first time ever- but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had something substantial, much less in such a straightforward manner. 

Still, the unwelcome sense of dread he felt made itself known further as he sat up at the table. Jane and the twins were eagerly watching the food being set down in front of them- it was something they had never had before and didn’t recognise, but it seemed to be primarily meat and pasta. 

In any case, it smelled nice enough to make him sit up that much straighter despite his reservations; his stomach rumbled as Nanny set to work dishing up food for each of them.

Melanoff sat Ruth up in her high chair before reaching out over the table and embellishing a couple of the plates with sprinklings of brightly colored confectionery. Nanny quickly moved to form a barrier between him and the food.

“They can’t have candy for dinner!” She swatted his hand away, half playful and half annoyed at the circumstance.

“It’s for presentation!” He protested weakly, still attempting to add sugary garnish.

Eventually she succeeded in getting him to sit down, though she couldn’t stop him from adding candy to his own plate. Once she was seated as well, their first family dinner officially began.

His siblings fell on the meal ravenously, like they would never see food again. He had expected that. It was only natural, and not at all hard to understand- he had been there too, after all. 

He had gone to sleep alongside them all those nights on a stomach painfully tight in its emptiness, or had often scrounged nearly empty plates for scraps and shared them as best he could. He figured he understood his siblings better than anyone in that regard.

Still, though, he didn’t eat. Instead, he stared at the empty doorway across the room. 

It was stupid, really, _so stupid..._ but even now, there was the lingering fear that somehow his parents would walk in- and then they would see him sitting at the table and _eating._

He knew what would come afterward. Father would grab him (it was the only time he would touch him, though it was not gentle in the least) and drag him by the ear, telling him how selfish and greedy he was. That he was spoiling their evening and he should learn to keep out of the way, or else. Then they would open the hallway door, the one leading down to the coal bin…

Tim shuddered. His fork, which he had been holding, clattered onto the tabletop. His hands went to pull on the brim of his head protector, making sure for the hundredth time that it was on properly. 

As soon as his precious helmet was secured, he hurriedly picked his fork back up in an attempt to pass off his dropping it as a simple act of clumsiness. Then, not knowing what else to do with himself, he absently fidgeted in his seat- staring pointedly at the table, then at the doorway again. He pushed his plate slightly further away with the side of his palm at the same time, but slowly- so as not to draw attention to it. _Not getting rid of it, no… just adding a little distance._

“Tim, is everything alright? You haven’t touched your food,” Melanoff’s voice startled him out of his (hopefully) subtle action. 

He hurriedly glanced towards the candy man, trying to gauge his expression.

“...Yeah, I know.” he said quietly after a moment, not sure how to respond. He certainly couldn’t confess any of the irrational, foolish fears he might have been having to them, but he also couldn’t very well say _nothing_.

The adults exchanged a subtle glance, communicating something to each other he couldn’t be sure of. Nanny leaned towards him a bit, moving with seemed to be a bit of hesitation.

“Y’know Tim, it’s _okay_ if you’re not hungry.” she said slowly.

But he _was_ hungry- very much so. He knew from experience that he had another full day before he would be too tired to move much, but after everything that had happened recently he was especially exhausted. Trying to give himself a moment to think, he stared down at the tabletop- and his heart gave a funny lurch as he came to the realization that the table likely held more food at the moment than he and his siblings would once have seen in an entire week.

“No, it’s fine,” he found himself saying. 

What did he mean by that, exactly? That he was doing alright, or that he was okay with eating? Either way, the statement was a lie. 

Across the table, his siblings had stopped to watch him. Jane looked down to his plate, then to him again, and there was some faint, if simple, understanding there.

“You sure?” Nanny pressed gently.

Not wanting to backtrack or make things more difficult, he nodded. 

“Then you really should eat.” She pushed the plate back towards him, and he felt a slight prickling of familiarity. “C’mon, Skinnybones, I’m worried about you.”

He looked up, and made eye contact with her for a few brief seconds. As unused as he was to this sort of interaction, he knew how much sincerity was there. He stole one more glance at the doorway, before settling back onto the plate. 

After a moment of silence, he took a deep breath and pulled the food even closer, willing himself not to tremble again. He was better than that! No self-respecting Willoughby would ever be afraid of something so silly.

The first bite was a strange experience, in that it was overtaken by a war between thoughts of how much trouble he would be in if, somehow, he was caught, and the simplistic acknowledgement of just how much he wanted to eat. It just seemed like a lot of mental exertion for something that should have been so _simple_.

After a moment he coaxed himself into going for more, reassuring himself along the way that it would be fine, that no one would be angry. It helped that the food was _good_ \- very good, although it was frightening to know not every part of him wanted it. He knew it likely wouldn’t help to dwell on it, though, and so he continued on as best he could. Around him, he was aware of the others going back to their food, seeming a tad relieved.

He ate like this for a while- slowly, bit by bit until his plate was empty. 

As soon as everything was gone, he leaned back a little, and suddenly became aware of how heavy his bones felt. His head swam, and his eyelids drooped as he struggled a bit to sit up in his chair. It was as if all the nervous energy he had possessed had dissipated all at once, and now he was left with nothing.

The next thing he knew, Nanny had stood and picked him up as if he weighed nothing at all. Halfway between being slung over her shoulder and carried in her arms, it was something he _might_ have fought, were he not so tired, and were it not so nice to be held. 

As it was, he only raised his head to see where he was being carried. It seemed they were in the hallway, headed towards a room his tired mind dimly recognized. 

_Earlier in the day, they had been shown around all the empty unused rooms, and each of them were told they could have any one they wanted as a bedroom. The idea was almost difficult to fathom- he was being given his own room? It had taken a few minutes for it to sink in._

_He still wasn’t sure what calls were made or deals struck to get their beds delivered the same day, but he supposed that just meant modern services could be sped along with money just as well as old-fashioned ones._

He suddenly felt the hold on him shift, readjusting and changing before becoming something more like a hug. He closed his eyes at this, burying his face in sweater wool and moving his arms up to reciprocate the gesture as best he could. 

Somewhere, both very near and sounding quite distant, he heard Nanny’s voice close to his ear.

“You did a good job Tim, you hear me? I’m proud of you.”

He honestly wasn’t sure if he had done much of anything, but the warm feeling that rose up in his chest at those words spoke over any doubt.

He let his arms fall to his sides again as Nanny set to work placing him back onto the ground and guiding him gently under his covers. She carefully took off his head protector and hung it over one of the bedposts.

Behind her, Jane poked her head into the room from the doorway. “Is Tim okay?”

“Yes, of course.” Nanny reassured her. The Barnabys suddenly shuffled into view from the other side of the frame.

“Why’s Tim in bed? It’s early.”

“Is he sick?” 

He opened his eyes blearily to watch as all three approached his bed, looking him over with hesitant scrutiny. He sat up a little straighter in bed, wanting to offer them some sort of explanation, but found he wasn’t sure what to say- or perhaps he was just too tired.

Thankfully, Nanny came in to shoo them all away good-naturedly, pushing them slightly in the direction of the doorway. 

“He’s gonna be okay, guys. Just give him a little space.” He heard her say. Once they were out, she turned back to him.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” she said, and he mustered a sleepy nod.

His eyes fought to stay open for a moment as he lay under the covers, but he was still aware of Nanny slowly, quietly backing out of his room and shutting the door behind her. 

The quiet that ensued after everyone had left might have bothered him, were he not in such dire need of sleep. After a time, lingering exhaustion, relief and satisfaction seemed to mingle together into a haze, and before he knew it all remaining uncertainty had been forgotten.

. . . . .

When Tim opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was how dark it was. 

The light outside the room had been turned off sometime after he had fallen asleep, and now everything around him was bathed in blackness. His eyes darted around, trying to find any visible silhouette or impression, but he saw nothing. Everything was so dark, so quiet. He could hear only his own breathing, and the subtle thumping his heart made in his chest. All else was completely silent.

He shut his eyes tight, sucked in a few deep breaths and tried not to think of the coal bin.

_There had been times when he hadn’t been able to sneak out of the bin for a good while. He would sit huddled up against the dirty stone wall for hours, waiting for his parents’ voices to die down as they finally retired to their bedroom for the night._

_The tally marks on the wall around him served as a grim sort of reminder of all the time spent there, at least until the furnace’s light died down enough to render them invisible._ _The air around him was always thick with coal dust, and he took shallow breaths as best he could to avoid getting the worst of it._ _Sometimes exhaustion would overtake him, though, and he would slump over onto the ground near the meager warmth of the furnace, and fall asleep._

_Later on he would wake up sprawled on the cold stone floor, swallowed up in pitch darkness. The moment his mind cleared from its uncomfortable sleepy haze, he would scramble up and fumble around to find the furnace door so he could climb his way up to the grate, trembling slightly from the lack of warmth and the blackness around him._

Tim grasped at his covers, gripping them as tightly as possible to remind himself that they were still there- after all, there had been no blankets in the coal bin. 

He breathed slowly in and out as best he could for a while. Although he did his best to reassure himself, the longer he lay there the more he could almost feel the roughness of the stone against his back, the thick, choking grit of the black dust…

He sat upright suddenly, bolting out of bed before that train of thought could continue.

Running out into the dark hallway, he felt around until he found the wall switch. He quickly flipped it on, suddenly standing in the warm glow of the overhead light. He let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in.

He turned back to the door frame, peering hesitantly into the room. 

The light was spilling through the open doorway onto the floor, the furniture casting strange shadows onto the dimly illuminated wall.

_Alright. The light is on. Go back in and go to sleep._

Despite the prodding from his thoughts, he didn’t move. It was true- the light cast was enough to reveal the room for what it was, so it should have been fine. It was fine.

Why then, did the thought of going back into the room make him uncomfortable? Was it merely the _suggestion_ of reliving more memories that disturbed him so? What weakness- and from a Willoughby, no less!

No, that was silly. He was sure it would be fine. He just needed a little time before he went back, that was all. He turned on his heel, looking down the lit hallway towards where he knew other rooms to be. 

Would he... be able to go and get a drink from the kitchen? 

There was always the risk of waking someone up with his footsteps or bustling around- he didn’t like to picture how angry Nanny or Melanoff might be if he did. The thought of going back to bed just yet, however, wasn’t a desirable one. As childish as he felt admitting it to himself, he wasn’t ready to return to the room, dark or otherwise. 

He stood there at a crossroads for a moment, thinking it over. Perhaps he could manage it if he was quick- but he would have to go very, very quietly.

He tiptoed down the hallway, treading as carefully as he could. It was hard to see without turning on the lights, but he didn’t want to risk anyone waking up by doing so. 

After what seemed like ages of sneaking, he found himself in the kitchen. Better yet, he had made it without disturbing anyone. The Cat was there, of course, but he only lifted his head to peer at Tim with a neutral expression on his face.

Carefully, he opened the cabinet nearest to him, looking for a cup. They were all on a higher shelf, though, and he was forced to clamber up onto the counter in order to reach them. He spent a moment feeling around, trying to find what he was looking for-

“...Tim?”

Startled, he let out a yelp as he slid off the counter with a _thump_ , cup in hand. He spun around to see Nanny standing in the doorway, squinting at him tiredly.

“Oh, d-did I wake you? I’m sorry...” He shrunk a bit against the wall, hoping she wouldn’t be too angry.

“Nah, you didn’t wake me- I usually get up in the middle of the night. Little surprised to see _you_ here, though,” she chuckled softly.

He stood up a little straighter at this, stepping away from the wall behind them. “I was just getting some water.” He put the cup down onto the counter so as to prove his claim further.

She gave him a sort of once-over, folding her arms as she did so, and for one moment he thought he really had upset her after all. The next, though, she raised an eyebrow good-naturedly, breaking out into a small smile.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? ‘Cause I think milk is better for midnight drinking. Or cocoa! Do you want cocoa? I am 100% sure I saw some around here when I was making dinner earlier.” 

Tim had never had cocoa before in his life, but this seemed like the sort of situation where it was wrong to refuse, so he silently nodded. Nanny, seeing this, immediately set to peeking through the kitchen cupboards for whatever she was looking for. He watched her as she pulled various things from the shelves, checking to see if they were right.

“Ha! Found it! I also found cookies on the top shelf.” She informed him from over her shoulder. “The package is kinda dusty, but they haven’t passed their expiration date, so we can have those too.”

He stood watching as she heated up a kettle in order to prepare the drinks; observing didn’t feel awkward as much as it did natural. After all, these were the sorts of small things he would have to learn to do with time.

Eventually she had it all mixed up and put into two mugs; she kept one and slid the other over to him. The cookies were kept in the package, which she pushed further towards him in a wordless gesture. She sat down in the chair nearest to her, and wordlessly he mirrored her.

He took one of the treats, hesitantly, and held it in the hand not occupied with a warm mug.

Speaking of- he peered into the cup, observing its contents to make sure it looked okay, before raising it to take a tentative sip.

Oh. It was _good_. It only took a tiny taste for him to know this was better than anything he had had in the vast majority of his young life. The only thing that could have outmatched it was the candy from a few days ago, and that had been about much more than just the taste. 

In any case, he forced himself to drink it as slowly as he could, occasionally nibbling on the treat he had been offered. Small things seemed to be easier to eat, for now- more discreet, more easily hidden.

They sat together, sipping their drinks for a moment, before Nanny spoke to him again.

“So what’s really going on? Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, not a nightmare,” he murmured. It _was_ technically the truth. After all, it wasn’t a bad dream if it had really happened, and he hadn’t actually been asleep.

“Are you going to be okay with going back to bed?”

“...Can I finish my drink first?” He cast a hopeful glance towards her. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” She chuckled. Despite himself, he smiled into his cup as he took another sip. 

Nanny ran a finger around the rim of her mug, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I think we should all go shopping tomorrow. There’s a department store a few blocks from here. We can get new sweaters for the Barnabys, if they’re up for it.”

“I’m sure they would be,” Tim said. “They weren’t too happy about losing their old one.”

“Well, they won’t have to share just one anymore, that’s for sure- but we’ll get other stuff too, of course.” 

“Like what?” Tim moved his chair closer. He had never been inside a store before, so there was no telling what sort of things might be there.

“For one, I’m thinking we find you some long pants- for special occasions, y’know.”

He kept his hands curled around his mug, watching the little wisps of steam rise and fade into nothingness as he thought about getting new clothes. “That sounds nice, actually.” 

“Yep! Which is _exactly_ why you should go to bed, and get some sleep. Clothes shopping takes it outta you like nothing else, _believe me."_

He nodded, albeit a tad reluctantly, and drained the remainder of his cup. Slowly, he stood up and pushed his chair in, then carried his empty mug over to the sink. 

“Thanks for making me a drink,” he murmured in her general direction, feeling rather tired again.

“It’s no problem. Thanks for being such a good kid.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and nudged him gently toward the doorway. “Now go on, Skinnybones. Get some rest.”

Her words brought him out of his slight stupor for a moment. He felt strangely warm, though whether it was from the cocoa or something else was hard to tell. Even so, something still nagged at him as he stood there- some small, strange thing that was more than likely unworthy of his attention, but all the same...

He turned around to face her again, a tad hesitantly.

“I turned the hallway light on,” he blurted out. “Is- is that okay?”

Nanny stopped halfway out of the room, looking back at him.

“Of course it’s okay, Tim,” she said gently. “Leave it on as long as you want.”

Nodding silently, he finally moved back into the hallway. He walked slowly, quietly, back towards the light outside his room, mind racing.

_It’s okay,_ he repeated to himself, committing her words to memory. _It’s okay. I can, if I want._

The light from overhead spilled into the room through the open door. He walked in and quickly clambered into bed, getting underneath his covers. He took the edges of the fabric in his hands, feeling them absently as he glanced around at the dimly illuminated walls. It was as he had left it. There was no furnace. No stonework. No dust to stain his skin, or his clothes. It was only an ordinary room- _his_ room. The thought made the corners of his mouth lift up in a small smile as he settled in further.

He closed his eyes. Sleep overtook him quickly.

  
  



End file.
